The Bitter End
by Emme019
Summary: A multi-chapter fic about Johanna's first year as a mentor.
1. Chapter 1

The sun is glaring upon my face when I set foot on the stage, the District 7 mayor announcing me for the first time as a mentor. There's no applause to welcome me, not that I blame the people. I remember when I stood there last year, amongst the seventeen-year-old girls, hands trembling in fear, heart stopping when I heard my name. And now, I'm supposed to be a Victor ready to forge another from these groups of frightened children. I look to my left, where my co-mentor of this year, Darren, is sitting. I'm happy he's the one I have to mentor with. He's the only true Victor of District 7, won his games by pure strength. Even now, eleven years after his victory, he's still incredibly muscular. A true Victor. I feel very little in comparison to him. But then again, I did win the Games too. I'm a true Victor as well, not by strength but by being cunning and ruthless.

"Ladies first," the escort says before she almost dances to the girls' reaping bowl.

"Jean Chaney."

A girl who stands in the group of the thirteen-year-olds comes forwards, tears streaking her face. As I eye her appearance I decide she won't be a Victor. It'll be a miracle if she survives the bloodbath. She's not particularly beautiful so she won't get sponsors that way, and she's a bit plump which means she's a merchant's daughter. No, she will definitely fall in the arena.

"Now, on to the boys, shall we."

I look towards Darren, who already has a look of defeat on his face.

"Dustin Clann," the high-pitched voice of the escort rings through the town square.

For some reason, this name lets sighs of relief breathe through the crowd. Even Darren stands up from his chair.

I stretch my neck to see why everyone is suddenly so alert, and as I see the young man walking towards the stage, I understand. He's one of the oldest to be reaped, more man than boy, dirty blonde hair hanging just past his broad and extremely muscled shoulders. He doesn't look afraid, on the contrary, he has a neutral look on his face, on the verge of bored. He looks like he could actually win the Games.

Jean and Dustin shake hands before they are lead to the town hall where they get to say goodbye to their families. Dustin stays outside though, refusing to go in with a curt shake of his head.

Ten minutes later, when the butcher and his family leave their daughter in the hands of the Capitol, we are on our way to the train station.

"The boy looks promising," I tell Darren, motioning towards the car in front of us.

"He will win," is all he says. "It's in his blood."

"In his blood?"

Darren turns to look at me before he speaks. "I knew his father, a long time ago. His mother died in childbirth so it was just the two of them. His father died four years ago, killed by peacekeepers."

"Where did he live?"

"In his old house at the edge of town, providing for himself, refusing help from everyone who offered him, including me."

So the boy is practically an outlaw, without being an actual outlaw. No wonder I've never seen him before at school. I doubt he wanted to fill his days with being in school rather than trying to make a living for himself. I wonder how he survived all these years, he must've been very good at it, considering his healthy appearance.

The car pulls to a stop at the train station, where Dustin is already on the platform. The girl is clutching the escort's gloved hand, crying.

"Let me guess," I say without removing my gaze from the girl. "I'm to train this one?"

A smirk from Darren confirms my suspicions.

"So tell me, Jean, what are you good at?" I try to make my voice sound soft and gentle but I don't think I succeed very much.

The girl shrugs. "I'm pretty good at algebra."

I sigh heavily and close my eyes for a second. "I mean, something that could come in handy in the arena?"

The girl shrugs again, this time without saying anything.

"Running? Climbing? Are you good with knives, axes, any weapon at all?" I probe.

Another shrug.

"Well, when you're ready to try to save your own life," I suddenly yell in anger. "Come find me."

I stand up, take a glass of scotch and leave for my room. I can't believe how people can just embrace their fate and die. How can you not fight? It's your life!

Not even five minutes have passed when I hear a knock on my door.

"What?" I yell when I swing it open.

It's Darren. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I sigh. "I just… I can't train the girl. You take her."

"What? No."

"Seriously, Darren, take her. I hate weaklings, let me take the boy."

"I'll train Dustin, he's family to me."

"Whatever, then train them both. I don't want the girl."

"I can't train them both! I need all my time for Dustin."

"DARREN!" I yell again. "I don't want to train the girl!"

"Then she'll die."

"She'll die anyway, no matter what we do or say. It's hopeless."

Darren opens his mouth to reply but another one beats him to it. "You do know that everyone here can hear you two fight?" Dustin says from the adjacent car.

Darren and I share a look before we both return to the main car.

Dustin stands up from the sofa he was lying on and pours himself a drink. "You know," he starts, taking a sip before he continues, "I really don't need anyone to train me."

"Really?" I ask skeptically.

"Really," he repeats, looking me straight in the eyes. "Darren can train Jean and you can just do whatever it is you like to do."

"So you have it all figured out then? Your strategy, choice of weapon, how to survive?" I ask, folding my arms across my chest, daring him to go against me.

"How do you think I survived the past four years?"

He looks as though he doesn't care about the games at all, as if it's just another obstacle in his life he has to overcome. Nothing new. Nothing to worry about.

"Then tell me," I say, sitting opposite him. "What weapons are you going to use?"

Darren interrupts us. "Did I not just tell you I'm training him?"

"Shh," I cut him off, "Jean is waiting for you."

I nod towards the little girl with a victorious grin on my face, knowing that I've won this contest. I may be a girl but that doesn't mean I'm to get all the weaklings to train.

"I can use anything that kills," Dustin says, much too comfortable with the topic.

"Okay, how will you survive? Say, in an arena with rubble?"

"Can't I just go with the moment? I work better when I improvise," he says, yawning.

"My first year as a mentor and I already have tributes who are either whiny or arrogant as hell," I sigh to myself.

"Don't fuss, Johanna," Dustin says, grinning at me. "You'll get used to me soon enough."


	2. Chapter 2

When we arrive at the training centre, both Dustin and Jean are impressed by our floor. It is quite impressive actually, it's the only Capitolian thing I don't hate. The tables delicately carved from various sorts of wood, the shades of green on the walls, the leather sofas…

A tap on my shoulder takes my attention away from the furniture. Surprised and confused, I take the envelope the avox is presenting me but before I can open it, Darren puts his hand on it.

"You might want to open that in your room," he says, only confusing me even more.

I do as I'm told and open the door to my room to read it in private. It's a formal looking envelope, faintly smelling of flowers.

When I open it, I immediately see the president's seal on it. I swallow hard, already suspecting what the letter might contain.

My eyes scan the paper swiftly and my hands put it back in its envelope as soon as I know the contents.

"Darren!" I shout when I'm in the living area again.

"He took the elevator, dear," our escort chimes.

"No," I breathe. "I need him. Where did he go?"

She smiles her light blue teeth at me. "If I knew, I'd tell you."

I curse and punch the elevator button with my fist multiple times. After several seconds, the doors slide open. I figure Darren would have gone all the way down, to the great hall of the training centre. And if he's not there, I'll just try every floor, even 1 and 2.

The elevator stops at the fourth floor though, and Finnick joins me.

"Johanna Mason," he smiles. "Our newest mentor. Welcome."

"Yeah yeah, whatever," I reply. I don't say anything else, biting my nails seems to be the only thing that can keep me somewhat calm.

"Everything okay?" Finnick says after a fraction of a second.

"Peachy."

"Okay then."

"Darren wasn't at your floor, was he?" I suddenly ask, desperate to find him.

"Eh, no he wasn't," Finnick says, taken aback.

"Shit."

"I don't think everything is all that peachy. What's wrong?"

"Mind your own business."

A laugh escapes his lips. "You got an envelope, am I right?"

His question surprises me so much I momentarily stop biting my nails to look at him.

"I'll take that as a yes. And now you're looking for Darren because you don't know what to do, right?"

"Fuck, yes, you're right."

"Thought so," he replies with a triumphant smile on his lips. "Darren will be gone for the rest of the afternoon, but feel free to swing by my floor in, say, an hour or so, when the tributes are being prepared for the parade tonight. I'll tell you everything you need to know."

I swallow and nod, feeling a bit comforted by his words and promise to help me. He's the pride of the Capitol Prostitution Business, I'm sure he'll give me some useful instructions.

* * *

There's not much left for me to do today, since the tributes are being cleaned and waxed and prepared for their big moment tonight. I chuckle at the thought of Dustin in a tree costume.

When an hour has finally passed, I get onto the elevator, again, and go to the fourth floor. It's the first time I've ever been here and it surprises me how much it reminds me of District 4. But then again, other Victors probably think the same about my floor, or the others. The Capitol may be crazy regarding fashion but they do have a sense of interior design.

"Ah, the newbie," Finnick dramatically exclaims. "Johanna, meet Mags, the sweetest lady you'll ever have the pleasure of knowing."

The old woman, Mags, says something to me but I can't understand anything so I just smile in response and hope she didn't ask me a question.

Finnick goes on introducing me to the other District 4 mentors. I politely nod at everyone but my thoughts are more directed towards tonight.

"Okay, what can I do for you?" Finnick asks once we're in the privacy of his room.

"Help me," I say as though it's obvious.

"You'll have to be more specific. It's the first time you've had to do this, right?"

I nod. "Finnick, I don't know what to do. I've never been in this position before."

I barely know the man standing before me and yet I'm pleading to him as if he's an old, trustworthy friend.

He's silent for a few second, looking at me. "You're a virgin."

I clench my teeth together to stop myself from blushing but it's no use. I don't even know why I'm blushing, it's not uncommon to be a virgin at eighteen. But then again, I am Johanna Mason and people have a certain image of me.

Finnick obviously notices my discomfort. "There's no shame in it, I was too. I'll be frank with you, tonight is going to be hell."

I swallow. "I thought so. Any suggestions on how to make it better?"

"That's for you to discover. It always helps me when I zone out, you know, think about something totally random, of no importance. Just focus on that. Let's say there's a lamp on the nightstand, just think about who made the lamp, what it's made of, if you'd want it in your house or not. Stuff like that."

"Stuff like that. Totally random. Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

He looks at the clock above his bed. "Sorry, you'll have to go. I have a quick 'date' before the parade starts."

I notice how his voice gets a bit more distant when he speaks about going on a 'date'. I guess I'll have that same voice in a few weeks.

"Oh, one more thing," Finnick says when I reach the door. "Don't bail. You'll regret it."

I throw him a bitter smile. "Already said no once, lesson learned."

* * *

"So," Darren starts when we are headed to the city circle, "when?"

"Tonight," I reply. "After the parade."

Darren opens his mouth to add something but we're interrupted by the escort's high-pitched squeal of joy when she sees Jean and Dustin in their costumes. Darren purses his lips together in an attempt to hold in his laughter, his reaction mirrored by mine.

"Aren't they just adorable?" the stylist coos while spinning Jean around to show off her costume.

"Adorable, in a very ugly and ridiculous way," I agree, receiving a glare from Dustin in return.

"If this is the way to get sponsors, I'm afraid you won't have much to do, Johanna," Dustin says.

"Oh I'll just work some magic," I say. "But it would help if you removed the tree and paint some leaves on your chest."

I meant it as a joke but our stylist is so impressed by the idea that she actually rips the costume from Dustin's body.

"Marvelous idea, simply marvelous," she's muttering to herself. "I need paint! Now!"

Two avoxes return with a large box filled with make-up and Capitol Body Paint. We've begun to draw the attention from other mentors and tributes, receiving sour looks from all of them, just because of a stupid joke I made.

The parade is about to start when the stylist is still painting leaves, green and brown branches and other District 7 related stuff on Dustin's chest. And Jean just stands there, looking absolutely ridiculous in her tree.

When the stylist is finally done, the escort urges Dustin and Jean to get on their chariot, but Dustin is walking in the opposite direction, towards me.

"Like this better?" he says suggestively.

I shrug. "Hmm, it might get you one or two sponsors."

He winks, grins and turns around to get on his chariot, ready to hear the crowd shout his name. And shout they will. They'll love him.

I sigh and follow Darren to our seats, where we'll have a good view on the other tributes to silently judge them.

The costumes are much the same as last year, for example District 1 is fluffy and sparkly; District 3 have wires taped all over their bodies; District 4, nets; District 11 and 12, totally unimportant.

I must say the crowd does love Dustin, especially when he puts both fists in the air and screams as though he just won the Games.

"So, how did I do?" he asks me when he steps off his chariot at the end of the parade.

"Well, you obviously liked it more than the others," I reply.

He rolls his eyes. "That was so you'd get more sponsors. I mean, I'll do great in the arena but you never know, I might need your help."

"You will definitely need my help, I can tell you that much. And I'll get you some sponsors, whether it's because of your chest or because of my charm."

"Charm," he fake coughs.

"Shut up! Anyway, I have to go."

I wave goodbye to everyone around me and to Finnick as well, who's not that far from me and is watching me with an encouraging yet sad smile.

"See you tomorrow," I say again.

The escort gives me two air kisses and Darren casually puts his hand upon my shoulder.

"See you later," Dustin says. "By the way, you look great tonight."

If only he knew why I was wearing a dress like this.


	3. Chapter 3

When the doors of the elevator slide open I expect to see an empty room. It's after midnight and Darren wants the tributes to have enough sleep before training and the games start. But the room isn't empty, unfortunately.

"Johanna," Dustin says when he sees my face.

He walks towards me, a faint shade of worry on his face when he motions to take mine in his hands but eventually doesn't.

"Who did this?"

I swallow and turn my head away from him without giving him an answer. He'll be a Victor in these Games and he's ridiculously handsome so he'll know what it's like soon enough.

"Johanna!"

I ignore him as I walk towards my bedroom but his hand snatches my arm.

"I asked you a question!" he says angrily.

"And I ignored it. Leave it alone! It's none of your business!"

"I still want to know."

"You may be older than me but I'm still your mentor, and when I tell you to leave it alone, then fucking leave it alone!"

I yank my arm free and slam the door of my room shut, not caring if I wake everyone else up. I run to the bathroom to check my face - I didn't really have the time to clean up when I left my client's house. There's a bruise on my left cheekbone and my lip is split but other than that I'm fine. Well, other than the fact that I just lost my virginity to a fifty-year-old, for money!

I take a cloth from the rack and try to wipe the blood of my lip but as I stare at myself in the mirror I notice more and more tears on my cheeks. I lost my virginity for money. It's not something I was saving for marriage but the girl in me always hoped it would be at least meaningful. Not like this. Not like any of this.

"I mean it, who did this to you?"

I jump at the sound of his voice. I never heard him come in, let alone notice him leaning against the doorframe.

"This is a private room," I snap at him. "You shouldn't be here."

"And yet I am."

I try to move past him to go to bed but he blocks the way.

With an angry sigh, I finally give in. "You really want to know? Fine, I'll tell you. My client did this."

"Client?" He looks confused.

"Yes. Snow prostitutes the Victors who have even the slightest hint of beauty."

"And you too are one of his prostitutes?"

"Well obviously," I snap.

"For how long?"

"What?"

"When did you start being his prostitute?" he explains.

"Could you stop saying that word?"

"Fine. When?"

"Tonight."

Dustin looks confused for a moment. "Why didn't you refuse him?"

"You think it's that simple?" I seethe. "I did refuse him at first!"

"Then why not again?"

"Because... Why am I even telling you this? Move! Get out of my room!"

And suddenly, I'm crying again. For my parents who were killed a few months ago, for me being a prostitute, for my life since I won the Games, for everything.

Dustin moves towards me but I smack his chest with my fists. I hate it when people see me cry.

"Get out! Get out, get out, get out!"

And finally he does. A fit of hysteria always drives a man away.

* * *

The sunlight streaming through the curtains wakes me up. I touch my cheek and cringe when it hurts more than I expected it to. Let's hope the next client won't be so aggressive.

"Toast," I tell the first avox I see when I leave my bedroom and head for the breakfast table.

The avox nods and leaves. I walk to the table where only the escort is sitting and pour myself some orange juice when a sleepy looking Dustin appears next to me.

"It's almost eleven, did Darren forget to wake you up?" I say, looking at the enormous clock above the television screen.

"No," Dustin yawns. "I just told him to fuck off."

A chuckle escapes my lips before I can stop myself. "He must've been pleased to hear that."

"Just as pleased as I was when you told me to fuck off last night."

I can feel the eyes of the escort burning holes into my back. "It's not what you think," I quickly snap at her. Escorts are the biggest gossipers of all, I don't want anyone in the Capitol thinking I'm banging my own tribute.

"And you," I turn to Dustin, "I told you it's none of your business."

"And when you return tonight with the other cheek bruised?"

"Who's to say I don't have something else to do tonight?"

"I doubt Snow would let you."

I grab his arm and drag him across the living room to a more quiet corner where no one can hear us.

"How can you speak so lightly of this? You'll be next, you know!"

He smirks. "I have to win the Games first."

"Oh please, you will. Even the ones from 2 look like you could smash their skull with a flick of your hand."

"Is that a compliment?"

"No, it's not. The point is, why are you not surprised by all this? You act as if this is just normal."

He takes a berry from the bowl on the coffee table between us and puts it in his mouth before he speaks. "I know enough."

When he doesn't continue I smack his arm. "Well?"

"Darren is a prostitute as well," he says, looking at the man in question who's talking to the stylist. "He doesn't know I know though."

"And how do you know this?"

A mysterious smile is all I get for an answer before he gets up. "I think it's time for me to hit the training centre. See you later, Johanna."

* * *

"You were right," I tell Finnick when I enter his room on the fourth floor.

"I usually am. About what?" he asks me.

I jump on the king-size bed next to him. "About last night."

"I can tell by your face," he points to my cheek with a sad smile. "Ever heard of make up?"

"What are you, a girl?"

"One of us has to be," he chuckles.

"I wish I wasn't," I sigh. "Girls are so weak, and vulnerable. I don't like being vulnerable."

He puts his arm around me. "I know. But you're not weak, take that from me."

I look up to catch his gaze. "But I felt so weak last night."

"That's not because you're a girl."

"You feel weak too?"

"I did," he nods. "But not anymore. When people like you enough, they'd do things for you. Or tell you things. They trust you."

"And you gain power. Smart," I think aloud.

"I know, I have my moments," he smiles. "When's your next date?"

"Tonight," I say. "Yours?"

"Tonight as well, but I have two."

"Lucky you," I say sarcastically.

"Yeah, lucky me," he repeats softly. "I guess I'll better get to it, then."

"And I should try to get some sponsors for my tributes," I say, standing up. "Or maybe I'll try to talk Darren into doing it. I don't really think I'm going to make a good impression on our dearest Capitolians, with my face looking like that."

"Again, make up," he says, smiling.

"Yeah yeah, I need some excuse, right?"

He nods. "Well anyway, good luck."

"You too, pal."


	4. Chapter 4

"What are you doing up there?" I complain to Makenna, the head of my prep team, who has been putting make up on my face for the past thirty minutes.

"Honey, bruises are much more difficult to cover up with normal make up. If you could just let me use mine-"

"No! No Capitol flowers on my face. No."

She scrunches her nose. "Flowers, bah. I think you'd look better with –"

"Makenna! I said no."

"Fine." She finishes my face by putting on a bit of blush and then admires her work of art. "Perfect. Now, Chadara has laid out a gown for you."

"A gown?"

"Yes, apparently you'll be going to dinner first and you have to look good. Or did you think I just spent half an hour on your make up for nothing?"

I stand up and open the clothing bag. The dress inside is dark red and of a very fine fabric, almost see-through, if not for the extra layer underneath. The right shoulder is finished with a lot of gold. I'm not a big fan of Chadara's usual style but I must admit, this dress is absolutely gorgeous.

"She also told me to make you were these," Makenna says, holding long golden necklaces in her hand. I take them from her and am about to put them around my neck when I see there's an intricate pattern.

"How do I wear these? Which hole is the main hole?" I ask Makenna, who just laughs.

"No, honey, it's not just for your neck."

"Huh?"

"Take off your clothes."

"Take off my -? Oh!"

Of course the gorgeous dress wouldn't be all. The necklaces have to go all around my upper body, which would be awesome if I didn't know this was just to please my client. Let's hope he won't choke me with them.

"There you go," Makenna says once she's helped me into my dress. "Gorgeous."

"Uhm, the clips?" I ask her, pointing towards my hair.

"Just a second, let them dry a bit longer."

"Why all this fuss," I ask her. "I didn't have to go through all this yesterday."

"That's because tonight you'll have to dine with president Snow's nephew," she says in a soft voice.

Makenna is probably the only Capitolian I can stand. The escort is fine too but just too much from the Capitol. I can tolerate her but I would never have conversations with her like I have with Makenna. I wouldn't consider her my closest friend either, but she's just nice to talk to.

"President Snow's nephew, huh? Why didn't I have him yesterday? It would make more sense for him to have me yesterday, right? You know, then he would've been the first."

Makenna sighs before she answers. "Yesterday was supposed to be a test drive."

"Ugh, who knew the fancy Capitol was so nasty underneath," I say, trying to hide my anger and shame.

Without saying much more, Makenna takes the clips out of my hair and arranges the curls into a beautiful and flowing mess.

"There you go, all done," she says. "Now, try to chew with your mouth closed, dear."

I stick out my tongue in response and leave to go have dinner with one of the Snow family.

The limo drops me off at a fancy looking restaurant – fancy as in fancier than all the other fancy restaurants in the Capitol, and another man immediately escorts me to a table in the back where candles are lit on every table and the main lights are dimmed. A little man in a tuxedo stands up, takes my hand in his and kisses it.

"Johanna Mason. Pleasure," he says in an annoyingly high and squeaky voice.

"Thanks," I reply uncomfortably.

"Please take a seat," he says, pointing towards my chair. "I already ordered a bottle of wine, if you don't mind. I know all about wine, I'm going to tell you in a minute."

Oh boy.

"But first," he continues, "It truly is a pleasure. I've been wanting to meet you since you won your Games, but unfortunately I was somewhere else, can't tell you where though, top secret."

Top secret. I suddenly see Finnick's face in my mind.

"But now we have all night to get to know each other," the man smiles.

This is going to be such a long night.

When I arrive at the seventh floor, again after midnight, I look up to see Dustin lying on the sofa, nibbling on a chicken wing.

"Don't tell me you've been waiting for my return," I say, mocking him a little.

"Actually, I was."

An answer so outright it almost takes me off guard. I take off my heels to give myself some time.

"Well, you shouldn't have."

He gets up from the sofa and studies my face, squinting his eyes a little.

"No black eye, no split lip... Any bruises on the rest of your body?"

"Don't expect me to take off my clothes for you, you little pervert," I say, taking a chicken wing of his plate.

"Aw, too bad," he smiles. "So I take it your client was a good one, if there is such a thing?"

I roll my eyes. "He was boring."

Dustin raises his eyebrows and chuckles, receiving a smack on his arm from me in return.

"Not like that! I had to go to dinner first, and he wanted to tell me all about his life, like I care about his pet ferret."

"Cute."

"Very," I reply sarcastically, taking yet another chicken wing from the plate before I let myself fall onto the sofa. "Now tell me, Dustin, why did you feel the need to wait for me? Scared I wouldn't return?"

The boy just shrugs, taking the wing out of my hands and eating it himself.

"Come on, there must be a reason for your surprising chivalry," I probe.

"Guess I'm just trying to do the right thing," he mutters more to himself than to me.

"Judging from your voice there's more to that story."

He looks at me for a moment, estimating me, before he speaks. "My father died because of me. I was young and reckless, and he told me not to go hunting in that particular forest without giving me a reason. I did go and peacekeepers surrounded me, thinking I was trying to attack their base. My father came after me and told them it was his idea. Then they killed him."

I stay silent for a long time, first of all because I didn't expect him to actually tell me the story, and second because the story is terrible.

"Well, it looks like there's more to you than meets the eye," I eventually say, a meager attempt to lighten the mood again. "Trying to do the right thing to honor your father."

He only nods in response, vacantly staring at the now empty plate.

I stand up to put the plate on the table. "Go to bed, Dustin," I say. For some reason I want to put my hand on his shoulder comfortingly, although I doubt someone like him needs comfort so I decide against it. Plus, I don't do that.

"I don't take commands from someone younger than me," he tells me, a cocky grin back on his face.

"Younger," I scoff. "Barely."

"Goodnight, Johanna Mason."


	5. Chapter 5

"You look like hell."

I scrunch my nose. "Well good morning to you too," I say to Darren, who just grins at my reaction.

"It is true, dear," the District 7 escort says, nipping from her tea. She's been the escort for 7 for six years now, and I still don't know her name. I make a mental note to ask Darren later.

"Yeah well, life isn't always peachy," I just say, not really wanting to discuss my current state.

One of the avoxes places a bowl of cereal in front of me which I almost attack.

"You might want to chew," Darren chuckles at his own joke.

"You might want to shut up if you want me to not punch you," I fire back immediately.

The escort sighs loudly. "And here we go again."

"No, not 'here we go again'," I object. "I don't have time for 'here we go again'."

Darren looks confused. "You're up to something, aren't you?"

I grin mysteriously before rolling my eyes. "I'm just going to get some sponsors."

"Yeah," Darren sighs, "I should get to that too."

"I thought you already found some?"

The look he gives me is just a little too guilty.

"Aw man, do I have to do everything myself?!"

"Excuse me?" Darren splutters. "Then I suppose you're also dealing with Jean, am I right?"

"Jean!" I exclaim. "I almost forgot about her. How is her training going?"

Darren shakes his head, breathing heavily through his nose. "I wish I could say good but you know just as much as I do that would be a lie."

"She's not that bad, is she?" the escort suddenly pipes in.

"No, she's worse. But then again, it's only been two days," Darren says.

I snigger. "She's a waste of your time."

"She is a District 7 tribute, Johanna," Darren says, suddenly almost angry.

"I know. I'm sorry but it's the truth! Besides, we already have a winner. And we both know there can only be one. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a shower."

* * *

I look around the main hall where the tribute parade is being displayed on a big screen and people are already putting bets on the tribute of their choice. Many other mentors are already roaming the place as well, looking for potential investors. Cashmere is practically making out with a man twice her age, in hope of getting some money out of him. If she doesn't love her Capitol job, I don't know who does.

I turn around at someone shouting my name, and am greeted by Snow's nephew again. I swallow the disgust down my throat and put on a smile I'm pretty sure is as fake as it can be.

"Good morning," I say with my most charming voice.

"Your male tribute looks quite promising," he says, pointing to the screen which now zooms in on the District 7 tributes.

"He sure is something," I agree, still smiling.

"Tell me, what are the chances of him winning according to you?"

Other people start to gather around to listen to my opinion on Dustin. "Well, taking the other tributes into account and the dangers in the arena I'd say I'm _very_ sure he'll be the Victor of these Games."

A woman with a bright pink afro hairdo wiggles her eyebrows. "It sure wouldn't hurt to have someone like him join you Victors."

"No, it sure wouldn't," I say with a voice that just drips with fake sweetness.

"Don't you think the District 1 and 2 tributes look as promising as he does?" another man asks.

"I think District 1 and District 2 have had their fair share of Victors over the past few decades, but other Districts such as my own are sure on their way up," I say to the group of Capitolians around me. "Dustin is not only incredibly strong, as his body definitely suggests, but he's very smart, a trait not always present in a District 1 or 2 tribute."

I can see Cashmere and her brother glaring at me from across the room. People are actually leaving their side to come to listen to what I have to say.

"And what about the arena itself? Not only tributes are a danger but also animals, mutts, the weather conditions…" another says.

"As I said before, Dustin is very smart which means he can trick people, outsmart them. And he will survive the arena itself, because of his background."

I realize I shouldn't have said that last part, since the Capitol authorities don't want their inhabitants to know much about living conditions in the districts. I just hope no one will –

"What do you mean?"

Shit.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" I almost laugh. "He's a tortured soul. You can see it in his eyes, always brooding."

What the hell am I doing?

The people stay silent for a while, trying to grab the meaning of my words, but then the pink-haired woman starts nodding.

"I see what you mean," she says, "there's a fire inside him, one we haven't seen yet."

"Yes!" I exclaim, eager to take the opportunity she's giving me. "He's already a winner on the outside, but on the inside there's a man who's not going to let victory slip from his grasp."

I smile at my own words, wondering why they almost sound like pure poetry. I can totally do this mentor thing, I kick ass at it.

"Well then, if you are that sure, sign me up as sponsor!" Snow's nephew calls out enthusiastically.

Other Capitolians, including the pink-haired woman, join him and start discussing the benefits of sponsoring him as they wait for their turn to sign up and give money.

"You better not think you can win this," a voice behind me suddenly whispers.

I turn around to see Cashmere and Gloss standing dangerously close to me.

"And what if I do?" I grin at them. "You're going to strangle me with your fluffy, feathery shawls?"

"Your tribute is nothing but a dumb woodchuck. He's worth nothing!" Gloss seethes.

"If you say so," I shrug. "But before you start calling people dumb, talk to your tributes first. I'm sure you'll change your mind after they've said three words."

"You dare to-"

"Sorry, guys," I say, holding up my hand to stop them from talking. "I really need to get back to my sponsors. You probably should get back to yours too - Oh sorry, my bad! I didn't realize all your sponsors were already mine."

I laugh as I turn my back on a furious Cashmere and Gloss.


	6. Chapter 6

I've been in the Capitol for almost four days now and I feel like I'm already stuck in a routine. Get up, take a shower, go down to find sponsors, go back up to my floor to get ready, have a 'date' and then have a chat with Dustin when I get back. And today is no different.

"So," I say when I spot my tribute on the couch again late at night, "you're ready for tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" he says without looking up from the television screen.

"Yes, tomorrow, when you have to perform for the gamemakers."

I take a glass of scotch out of the cabinet and take a seat next to him on the couch.

"Oh that, yeah I'm ready."

I smirk. "You had no idea that was tomorrow, do you?"

He turns to look at me. "No. I just got back so I haven't seen Darren or Trynni all day."

"Trynni?" I ask.

Dustin raises his eyebrows. "Trynni, our escort?"

"Right!" I exclaim as if I just didn't know which Trynni he was referring to.

"You really didn't know her name?" Dustin asks, clearly seeing right through my façade.

I just shrug. "No. But whatever, I do now."

I take a sip from my drink and notice the thin layer of sweat on Dustin's forehead as well as the glass of water in his hand.

"If you just got back," I start, "then where were you all day?"

"At the training centre. I stayed a little longer."

I glance at the clock. "But it's one in the morning! You should've been back seven hours ago."

"Just felt like staying."

I narrow my eyes at him, sensing the sudden change in his behavior. "Something's not right here. You're lying."

He starts laughing his ridiculously contagious chuckle. "I'm not lying, Johanna. I just wanted to stay at the training centre today, and I informed Darren this morning. It's no big deal."

"But why did you want to stay there?" I ask, still not fully convinced.

"Because I like it."

"You… _like_ it?"

"Yes, I do. And now I'm off to bed, because I want to have a clear mind tomorrow. I have to make an impression, remember?" He winks at me and then stands up to go to his room.

When he's walking away from the sofa, I notice there's an extra sway in his step.

"You're limping!" I almost shout.

"I'm not," he says. He just keeps on walking without turning around. "It's just a scratch. Stop being so paranoid."

"I'm _not_ paranoid," I protest. "I'm just looking out for my tribute."

"And you're doing a good job," he says, finally at his door. "Goodnight."

Maybe I am being paranoid because now that I think about it, everyone can get a bruise during training. And if Dustin wants to stay a little longer, who am I to question his motives? I'm pretty sure he didn't go to bed at ten every night back in District 7.

I just shake it off and finish my scotch. Maybe it is just me. It's not like my life has been the same since I got here.

* * *

"So, how did it go?" Darren asks both Jean and Dustin when they get back after having showed the gamemakers what they're worth.

Dustin just shrugs and mumbles 'fine' while Jean looks like she might cry again. It's like that sad face of hers never changes.

"I just tied a few nods and showed them I could make a fire," she says before she runs off to her room.

So she showed surviving skills. I'm not saying it's not necessary, which it most definitely is, but when you have to fight for your life, a few nods and a fire won't exactly help you.

"Well, it'll be a few hours before your points will be made public so maybe you should rest a while as well," I say, raising my eyebrows at Dustin who looks a bit tired.

"Nah," he says, "I'm just going to hang out here for a while."

"Suit yourself."

He joins me, Darren and Chadara on the couch and takes one of the glasses from the coffee table in the process.

"That was mine," I say, throwing him an evil look.

"Was," he agrees, grinning.

I just roll my eyes and take my glass back from his hands. "It's not even alcohol, you dipshit. It's water."

He raises his hands in surrender. "Hey, you're the boozy from this floor, not me."

I decide not to go against him so instead I ask him what he showed the gamemakers.

"Oh, you know, showed them some of my charm."

"Your charm huh," I say. "Could you be a bit more specific?"

"Now now, Johanna, you don't want me to spoil it all. Let it be a surprise."

I narrow my eyes at him. "You do realize they won't actually show your performance, right? Just the points."

"I do," he nods. "I just don't want everyone guessing about how well I did, or didn't."

"We don't need to guess," Darren suddenly says. "We already know you did well."

I snort. "I hope they didn't notice your limp."

Darren immediately catches my bait. "Limp? What limp?"

"Oh didn't he tell you?" I smile wickedly. "He hurt himself last night, when he was trying to be a show-off by training extra hard."

I can almost feel Darren's sudden anger radiating from his body. "Dustin! You can't afford to get hurt! Not this close to the Games!"

"Relax," Dustin says, rolling his eyes and sighing. "Like I told Johanna last night, it was just a scratch. And I don't even feel it anymore."

Darren is visibly relieved and moves to lean back a bit but suddenly gets up. "Just out of curiosity, how did you get that _scratch_?"

Dustin doesn't answer but sighs heavily in response, obviously not interested in this discussion.

But clearly Darren doesn't need Dustin to actually answer. "You got into a fight with someone, didn't you?"

"That's impossible," I say. "He would've told me last night when-"

"With whom?" Darren cuts me off.

"The guy from 1," Dustin replies.

"What?" I shriek.

Dustin smiles apologetically at me, as if to say 'hey, sorry I didn't tell you last night but now you know!'

"Unbelievable," I mutter bitterly.

"He's a douche," Dustin explains his fight.

"You're a douche if that's the reason why you fought him," I fire at him.

"That's not the reason but he's still a douche," Dustin says, taking the remote from my hand and flipping through the channel's on TV.

"Then what was the reason?"

Dustin sighs again, irritated by my endless list of questions. "Let it go."

"No, I won't-"

"Let it go, Johanna," Darren says, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"No, I will not!" I explode. "I am sick and tired of being left out. Obviously, there is something going on and I want to know what! So, tell me, Dustin!"

"No!" he shouts back, his eyes almost shooting daggers at me. "We all have stuff that gets under our skin, we all have things we don't talk about. Now let it go!"

"Fine," I say after a long pause before I walk away.

"Their points will be up soon!" Chadara shouts in an attempt to make me come back.

"I don't care," is all I say before I slam the door shut.

I go straight to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I really need to calm down and I don't think lying on my bed will help me with that. A cold shower should do the trick.

I don't know how it's possible that this whole floor has become one of those freaking Capitol TV shows. Every day there's drama, people shouting at each other, secrets, gossip… Is this going to be my life from now on? Because I hardly doubt I'll only have to be here for one month every year. In a few years I'll probably have flaming red and white hair with tattoos all over my body, and I'll be talking with that ridiculous Capitol accent.

When I get out of the shower I'm not completely calm yet but not as furious as before either. I quickly put the towel around my body when I hear a knock on my door.

"Hey," Dustin says, his voice soft and a bit insecure.

I don't say anything, instead just wait for him to continue.

"Just wanted to let you know that Jean got a three and I got a ten."

I try to keep the excitement out of my voice. "Okay. And the other districts?"

"Both tributes from 1 got a nine, the girl from 2 a ten and the boy an eight. And the other districts all had lower that than, except for the boy from 10. They gave him a nine as well."

I nod. "Okay, thank you."

He gives me a small smile before he turns to leave. I lean against the door as soon as I've closed it. A ten. My tribute has a ten!


	7. Chapter 7

"Tonight you'll be dealing with Caesar Flickerman," Darren says two days later when we're all gathered at the breakfast table. "He's not dangerous but he'll be asking questions, questions you won't always be prepared for."

"So he is dangerous?" Jean asks, with that puppy dog look in her eyes.

"It's our job," Darren says, pointing to me and himself, "to prepare you for his questions. Johanna will help Dustin and I will help Jean, and afterwards you both have to go to Chadara. She'll teach you how to behave properly."

"I know how to behave," Dustin says.

Chadara chuckles. "Oh honey," she laughs in a tone that says 'you are cute but no'.

"We'll start after breakfast," Darren concludes.

I push my chair back and stand up. "You know where to find me when you're finished," I simply say to Dustin.

Back in my room I take the nearest thing – a wooden bowl – from the dresser and throw it against the opposite wall. I just needed to do that. There's no one here to judge me for being mentally unstable so what the hell.

I hear the door open behind me, followed by Dustin's voice. "I'm finished."

"Sit down," I say, pointing to one of the two chairs in the corner of my room.

"Okay," I start when I'm sat down as well. "Caesar isn't a bad guy, he'll help you as much as he can. It's his job to make the interviews look great so he'll –"

"I'm sorry about last night," Dustin cut's me off.

I look up in surprise but quickly recover. "Doesn't matter. As I was saying –"

"No, seriously Johanna, we're not leaving you out of anything," he interrupts me again.

I sigh when I realize he's not going to drop this.

Dustin continues. "It's not like I have this big secret or something."

"You sure about that?" I say, raising my eyebrows in obvious doubt. "Because last night it was pretty clear Darren knew something, and you didn't want to tell me what that something was. So I'd say that's a secret."

"It's not," he says. "I just… Look, like I said last night, we all have stuff we don't talk about. Not because you don't want anyone to know, but just because it's no one's business and you don't like to talk about it. You have that too."

"Oh do I?"

"Yes, the first night, when you just got back from that client who had beaten you, you said you had refused the president at first. But when I asked you why you didn't do it again, you didn't want to tell me. And I let it go. Because it was none of my business."

I look at him in complete silence, not knowing what to say to this. He's right. I wasn't going to tell him about my family then, and I'm not going to tell him now. It's my business, just as the reason for their passing is. I clench my teeth together in a successful attempt to hold back my tears.

"Fine," I eventually say. "You're right. I hope you're happy now."

He smiles a little before he speaks again. "Something else is bothering you."

"And what makes you say that," I sigh.

He points towards the other corner of my room. "Correct me if I'm wrong but I'm pretty sure that bowl didn't attack you."

I almost chuckle at the scene he's sketching but I realize he's right. I exhale heavily and almost bury my head in my hands in despair. Almost.

"In just five days you've changed from the fierce Johanna Mason with her devil-may-care attitude to this angry, paranoid and overly dramatic little girl," Dustin says.

"Nice, Dustin," I say. "Didn't realize you knew that many words."

"Well, it is true, isn't it?"

I look at his face for a moment, trying to decide whether to smack his head for saying that about me or to just agree with him. "I suppose so," I eventually say. "I just lost my cool the other day. It won't happen again."

Dustin shakes his head. "Hey, no need to apologize to me!"

"It's just this place, the Capitol. It's freaking me out. I won't survive a place like this."

He raises his eyebrow skeptically. "You won't survive?"

"You know what I mean," I dismiss his comment with a wave of my hand. "I as in my character, who I am. That person inside won't survive."

"Come on, don't be a pussy. You're Johanna fucking Mason," Dustin says, a laugh spreading across his face.

I stare at him in a mixture of awe and bafflement. Wherever his words came from, whatever his reason is for saying them, they cause for something to click in my brain.

"I'm Johanna fucking Mason, indeed," I say as if I just realized this, high-fiving him in the process.

* * *

Caesar Flickerman smiles his ultra white teeth when the crowd goes crazy after yet another interview. He makes any tribute look good, even Jean, who he just interviewed.

"Jean Chaney, everyone!" Caesar yells in excitement. The crowd applauses politely when she gets off stage.

"And now," Caesar continues in a dramatic voice. "The one everyone has been talking about, the one everyone has been waiting for, our previous Victor Johanna Mason's golden tribute: Dustin Clann!"

I know what applause sounds like, I've seen people go wild for some tributes or Victors, but this? This almost matches the applause Finnick gets!

"Thanks, Caesar," Dustin says when he shakes Caesar's hand.

Dustin turns around to face the crowd and winks. Good move, I smile.

"Sit down, sit down," Caesar says, eager to start his chat. "So, Dustin, with your eighteen years you are one of the oldest tributes in these games."

"I _am_ the oldest tribute."

"Oh yes?"

"I'm nineteen."

There's a murmur going through the crowd. He can't be nineteen, that's absurd! The reaping only allows boys and girls from the age of twelve to eighteen.

"That's impossible, Dustin," Caesar says, chuckling a bit uncomfortably.

"No, it's not," he shakes his head. "It was my birthday the day before yesterday."

Caesar is at a loss for words, just like everyone else is. I look to my side to see if Darren knew about this or not. Judging by his face, he didn't.

"Does that mean he could be disqualified?" I whisper, maybe sounding a little too hopeful.

"I doubt it," Darren whispers back. "I'm not sure what they're going to do but they can't pick someone else. Not this close to the Games."

"How did they not know about this?" I seethe. "This goes against the rules!"

"Since when do you care about the rules, Johanna," Cashmere taunts from the seat below me.

"Oh go throw yourself at someone, Cash," I say, scrunching my nose at her before I turn back to Darren.

"What should we do?"

He motions for me to be quiet. Caesar has gained his composure again.

"Well," Caesar sighs and laughs at the same time. "Looks like our time is up."

Dustin nods, smiling. "Too bad we couldn't chat a bit more."

"Yes, too bad, indeed," Caesar agrees. I bet he's secretly happy this interview is over, who knows how many 'secrets' Dustin could've spilled.

The rest of the interviews aren't all that interesting, or maybe that's because no one is really paying attention. Everyone is just discussing Dustin's age and whether he should be allowed in the Games or not.

"Way to go, Dustin," I say when I meet my tribute on the seventh floor when the interviews are finished. "That really was the perfect moment."

"Hey, he asked!"

"Whatever. You still have impeccable timing."

"I know," he smiles. "And you looked great tonight."

I snort. "Suck-up."

He laughs out loud and hugs me playfully. "By the way, that wink on stage was meant for you."

"I know."


	8. Chapter 8

I go to my room to change clothes and ask Makenna if she can redo my hair. It was up at first but somewhere between the interviews, the chaos afterwards and Dustin hugging me it fell down again.

"Why do you want me to do your hair, honey?" Makenna says after she's finished her conversation with Chadara.

"For my date?" I say as if that's pretty obvious.

"No need for that." Finnick suddenly exits the elevator. "All dates are off."

I shoot him a confused look. "What? Why?"

Finnick nods towards Dustin. "Because of the fuss your warrior here caused. No one has time for other Victors. Everyone wants to discuss this one. It's quite the conversation topic."

"See!" Dustin exclaims. "Not everything I do is necessarily bad."

A smile spreads across my face.

"Why are you smiling like that?" he asks me, his eyebrows tied together in confusion.

"'Cause this lady here finally has the night off!" I shout out.

"Whatever, it's creepy. Don't do that."

"Well, in that case," Makenna says to both me and Finnick, "Why don't you join me and Chadara for a drink? Some others will be there as well."

I share a brief look with Finnick before starting to make up some lame excuse but Makenna cuts me off. "Oh don't worry Johanna, they won't be all bad."

"Who's bad?" Chadara asks, clearly not knowing we're referring to other stylists and escorts like her.

Everyone laughs at her and I eventually agree to join them.

"I'll come too," Finnick says.

"Sorry guys, someone has to keep an eye on the kids," Darren says, gesturing towards Dustin and Jean.

I walk over to both tributes and stand before them with a serious face. "Well, brush your teeth before bed and be a good boy and girl. And no fighting," I say in my best Capitolian accent.

"Oh, just go," Dustin says, giving me a playful shove towards the elevators.

* * *

It's almost eleven when I get back from my 'night out with the Capitolians' and I may be a little tipsy, since I don't think I would've survived that night sober. I start to walk towards my room before I suddenly change my mind, take a bottle and two glasses from the cupboards and go to Dustin's room instead.

"Hey," I say cheerfully when I enter the room.

"What are you doing here?" Dustin says, moving to a sitting position on his bed.

I holds my hands up to show the bottle and glasses. "I come to celebrate."

"Celebrate what?"

"Your birthday, for starters. And also your last night before you have to fight for your life."

"That's cause for celebration?"

"No, but 'drinking to your impending death' doesn't have the same ring to it," I say, handing him a glass of liquor.

Fortunately, he's of the same kind as me and laughs at my morbid joke. "Then let's celebrate," he says, raising his glass.

"To you," I say, "happy nineteenth and may you be ruthless and victorious in the Games."

"Nice words."

I shrug. "I have my moments."

"As do I," he says.

My glass drops to the floor when he takes my head in his hands and kisses my lips.

"What do you think you're doing!" I say angrily when I push him away.

"Come on, don't tell me this wasn't your intention when you entered my room," he says, moving closer.

"No, it wasn't!" I push him away again.

"So you're just here to share a drink?"

"I... Yes. I don't know." What is wrong with me? I didn't think I wanted this but now I do. I've been a fool for not seeing this coming, and yet it was so clear.

As I look upon his face, that handsomely rough face with that cocky grin, I make my decision.

"What the hell," I curse under my breath when I kiss him back as forcefully as he first did.

* * *

"You know," Dustin begins, putting his arm around me and pulling me closer, "somehow I had the feeling that you'd be fun to hang out with."

"To hang out with?" I quote, laughing. "This is your idea of hanging out?"

"Yes. We should do it again some time."

I prop myself up on one elbow to look at him. "You arrogant shit," I laugh. "Then be sure to come back in a few weeks. Maybe, just maybe, I'll want to hang out with you again too."

"Maybe?"

"Yeah, if I'm in a good mood."

He laughs and kisses me, first deep and hot and then suddenly much more tender.

"Fine," I sigh dramatically. "I give in. You can hang out with me when you get back."

"When," he repeats. "You're putting a lot of faith in me."

"My faith alone is not enough. Just use that grin to charm your way through the Games and maybe I'll be able to get you some more sponsors. I've already secured some but you never know what could happen."

"And what about Jean?"

"What about her?"

"Should I team up with her?"

"No," I almost whisper. "She'll slow you down, maybe even be your death."

"And you wouldn't want that, would you?" he grins.

"Let me put it this way: if she were to become Victor by teaming up with you and suddenly turning her back on you, I'd kill her myself when she got out of the arena."

"Why?"

"Vengeance," I simply reply.

"Am I that important to you?"

The words are light but the way he says them is serious.

"Maybe."

"Well, you're maybe a bit important to me too."

"Aww, that's just the sweetest thing I've ever heard!" I laugh.

"I have my moments," he laughs as well, echoing our words from earlier tonight.

"Well, as much fun as this was, I should head back to my own room," I say, kissing him quickly on the cheek before standing up.

"Oh no," he says, grabbing my wrist and pulling me back onto the bed. "Maybe you should hang out a bit longer."

I laugh. "Love to, but you need sleep."

"Do I look like I need sleep?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"You'll be a wreck tomorrow."

"Then that's tomorrow's problem. It's not tomorrow yet."

He starts kissing me again but I push him away, suddenly way more serious. "And what if you die tomorrow?"

He drops his head onto my shoulder, his long hair tickling my cheek. "Johanna, for the millionth time, I won't die tomorrow. I can do a night without sleep, but I can't do a night without you."

He raises his head again to look at me and I burst into laughter. "Was that supposed to be romantic?"

A cheeky grin appears on his face. "I wanted to try it out. Was it good?"

"No! Way too cheesy. But if I were you I'd remember that line for when you're one of Snow's prostitutes. You'll be _so_ popular. I bet you could even match Finnick in that department. I'm actually pretty sure of that."

"Would you pay for a night with me?"

"Hmm, perhaps," I shrug. "I doubt Snow would let me but I can always use one of Chadara's wigs and pretend I'm a Capitolian named Tenley."

"You could be a blonde Capitolian."

"Blonde?"

"Yeah, I think you'd be a good blonde."

I raise one eyebrow. "You mean I'd be stupid?"

"No, as in sexy, not stupid."

"You really need to work on your seducing skills."

"Why? They seem to be working just fine," he smiles.

"Well, maybe it's me seducing you."

"Why do I have the feeling that your mind is just as dirty as mine is, even though yours was still pure a few days ago?" Dustin grins devilishly. "By the way, are you always like this, with your clients as well?"

I can feel my smile falter a little. "Don't talk about that."

He looks up at me, a serious expression on his face. "Okay."

I shift a bit so he can put his arm around me again and we stay like that for a long time in complete silence, with only the sound of our breaths filling the air.

"You do know I'm not that girl, right?" I suddenly say softly, hoping he's still awake.

"I do," he replies just as soft.

"This actually means something to me. I mean, yes, it's fun and all, but that's because it's with you," I say, feeling the need to explain myself further. "It means something."

I can feel him pressing a kiss on the top of my head. "It's okay, I understand."

I lift my head so I can look him in the eye. "Do you?"

He breathes out, almost like a laugh. "I do, Johanna. Honestly."

I smile and go back to my previous position, with my head on his chest. "Well, okay then."


	9. Chapter 9

I wake up instantly at the obnoxiously loud sound of someone knocking on the door.

"Hey, Dustin, you have to g-"

I can hear Darren freeze in the door opening when he sees someone – me – lying under the covers.

"Dustin, who is that?" I hear him say.

A grumble coming from Dustin tells me he's not fully awake yet.

"Oh, it's just…" he murmurs, his voice filled with sleep. "I don't know."

Darren makes a 'huh' sound, indicating he doesn't believe a word Dustin's saying. "It's Johanna, isn't it."

_Shit_. "Hi Darren," I call from under the covers.

"Sleeping with your tribute, really classy."

I roll my eyes under the covers. "Go away."

"Well, both of you need to get up. The Games are starting today, in case you forgot."

The Games are starting today. How can I be laying calmly under the covers, laughing with the whole situation while something like that is hanging over our heads. How could I have forgot about that?

"Em, Johanna, he's gone," Dustin says softly while lifting a corner of the blanket to reveal my face.

I swallow thickly. "Yeah, we should get going too."

I get up and slowly walk to the bathroom, thinking about last year, when I had to go in the arena for the first time.

"I'm going to take a shower," I tell Dustin before I close the door.

I look at myself in the mirror and realize how much things have changed in only a year. My life has been turned upside down and even though I knew this would happen I had never thought it would be so drastically. The old Johanna Mason doesn't exist anymore.

When I get out of the shower I notice Dustin is gone from his room so I figure he must've gone for breakfast already.

"You do know you're playing with fire, right?"

I jump at the sound of Darren's voice.

"Did you wait for me to get out of the shower just to tell me that?" I snap at him.

"Yes, and what you're doing, it's dangerous."

"Playing with fire," I snort. "I'm always playing with fire, Darren."

He takes a few steps forward until we're almost toe to toe. "And look where it got you. Because of your playing with fire you have no one anymore. What do you think will happen to Dustin when Snow finds out?"

I don't say anything, just stare him down, daring him to go further. But then Dustin interrupts us.

"I already have no one in my life, Darren. I don't think things could get worse."

"Hey!" I yell. "You do have someone now."

He smiles. "I know, but I meant someone the president could hurt just to hurt me."

I nod and smile back. "See, Darren! I doubt the Capitolians would have problems with us."

"They would!" Darren shouts. "You're one of the most popular Victors, and if Dustin wins he'll be too. Snow will lose a lot of money if you two are… whatever you are. He won't be able to prostitute either one of you!"

"When," I say in a flat voice.

"What?"

"_When_ Dustin wins. You said if," I repeat.

"You better hope no one knows about this, or there's no chance he'll get out of the arena alive." And with that, Darren leaves the room.

"You okay?" Dustin asks, taking a step towards me.

"I'm fine," I brush him off. "We have to go to the hovercrafts."

"You don't want any breakfast?"

I make a face. "Not right now, no."

Dustin and I make our way through the living and dining room but before we reach the elevators, Charada's high-pitched voice stops us.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I sigh. "To the hovercrafts."

"Oh no no no, I'm supposed to be the one going with Dustin. Besides, he's not dressed yet."

"What?" Dustin says, looking at his clothes. "I am dressed."

"I meant your arena outfit."

I give Dustin a quick shove towards his room. "Just put on whatever she gives you. And you," I say, turning to Chadara, "You're staying here. I'm going with him."

"But it's not –" she starts protesting but I cut her off.

"Are you deaf?! I'm going with him!"

"Hey!" Darren interrupts. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

I turn around, furious, but don't say anything. I don't know the answer to his question either, I just know that I want this day to be over as soon as possible.

"You ready?" Dustin says when he's back from changing his clothes.

"Yes, I am," I breathe, thankful that he's giving me an excuse to leave this room before I could do any more damage.

Both Dustin and I are very silent in the elevator, and on our way to the hovercraft, and in the hovercraft. But honestly, what is there to say? So instead, I just take his hand in mine. Not for him, but for me. A little squeeze lets me know it's for him as well.

"So," Dustin says when we're in the room with the tube leading to the arena. "Now what?"

I swallow hard. "We have a few more minutes."

Dustin looks around, taking in his surroundings, and tugs on the shirt he's wearing.

"Don't think this'll give me much protection."

I take his arm to feel the fabric of the shirt. "It's pretty thin."

"Thin? A fly could rip it up!"

"Must mean the arena will be warm, maybe even excruciatingly hot."

"Great, looking forward to it," Dustin says, rolling his eyes.

"So you have to find water and stay hydrated because dehydration is never good, and you'll have to find food but don't just trust anything you see, it could be poison. And watch out for animals, they could be mutts. No, they will definitely be mutts," I start rambling, not letting go of his shirt.

"Johanna-"

"And at the cornucopia, I'm not telling you to run away from the start, get what you can but don't linger too long. I know you're strong and I know you got one of the highest marks for individual assessment but you're not a career even though you're better than them…"

"Johanna, stop it," Dustin says, gripping my shoulders tightly to get my attention and stop me from talking. "You already told me. I know what to do in the arena."

"It's just…," I stammer, feeling a tear sting in the corner of my eye. "It's just that I care about you, and I want you to come back."

A loud voice announces there are only thirty seconds left.

"Aw, Johanna, don't get all mushy-mushy," he says, flashing his typical grin.

I swat his chest. "Don't mock me."

"I'm not, thanks for caring. Besides, now I have a reason to get back."

Ten seconds left.

"You better get in the tube," I whisper, still not letting go of his shirt.

"Yeah…"

I give him one last kiss and then shove him towards the tube.

"Don't die," I say, my voice suddenly much more stronger.

He winks at me from behind the glass of the tube. "I'm going to kick ass."

"You better," I wink back.

The platform on which he's standing starts moving upwards and a few seconds later he's gone.


	10. Chapter 10

I don't waste any time watching the now empty tube and turn around to head back to the hovercraft immediately. Thankfully, the hovercraft has screens on which the games can be followed. As soon as I'm sat down, my eyes are glued to the screen, anxiously looking for Dustin.

The area around the tributes and the cornucopia is a light shade of brown, but I can't really make out where exactly they are, since the camera is still focused on the cornucopia and tributes. But then the gong announces the start of the game and the camera zooms out, revealing a vast area of sand. A desert. They can't possibly be in a desert!

The bloodbath is exactly what it's name suggests, as tributes are being killed by the second. Dustin has managed to grab a bag and two swords, using it to fight off the boy from District 10.

"Come on, Dustin," I whisper frantically. "Don't waste your time fighting him now. Get out of there."

I suddenly remember Jean, the 'other tribute from 7', and try to find her in the mass of fighting children but there's too much chaos and blood to really recognize anyone, apart from Dustin of course.

The hovercraft lands but I don't get off as long as the bloodbath is going on. Too much can happen now so I'd rather wait until night has fallen and most of the tributes are asleep to get back to the monitor room.

My eyes are glued on Dustin's figure the entire time. He's doing well fighting off other tributes before deciding it's been enough and running away from the cornucopia towards … nothing. There's nothing to run to. Absolutely nothing. Nowhere to hide. Why the hell would the gamemakers design an arena like this? The tributes will be dead within the first couple of days!

I take the hovercraft phone from the wall and call the monitor centre.

"District 7," I bark at the Capitolian who picked up after the first ring.

"Right away, miss Mason," he says.

"Johanna," I hear Darren's voice say with a sigh.

"A desert!" I screech into the horn. "A friggin' desert!"

"Calm down."

"Calm down? When's the last time they used a desert as the arena?"

"I don't know," Darren replies, sounding somewhat defeated. "But this is designed by the gamemakers. I'm sure they made a few adjustments to it."

"Adjustments," I scoff. "As if this arena in itself isn't deadly enough already."

"Dustin will manage, Johanna," Darren tries to comfort me. "By the way, where are you?"

"I'm in the hovercraft," I say, not taking me eyes of the screen.

"Still?"

"Yeah, we've already landed though, I just can't leave right now."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to miss anything."

"Johanna, we need you here."

I roll my eyes at the phone in my hand. "You'll manage."

"I know. But you won't."

"What do you mean?" I sigh.

"You'll have to leave at some point."

"Yeah, I know. Listen, I'll get there eventually, okay?"

"If you say so."

I hang up as soon as I see Dustin change his tactics. For some reason he's emptying his backpack and then throwing it all away. Why the hell would he do this? This isn't what I had in mind. I should've discussed this with him, but no, I was too busy getting into his pants to really get to the how-to-survive-in-the-arena part. _Why_ didn't we talk about this?

I reach for the phone again but then decide it's better to just go to back to the monitor room in the training centre instead of yelling at Darren over the phone.

"Is the car here?" I ask the pilot before getting of the hovercraft.

"Yes, ma'am."

I get into the car as fast as possible and start urging the chauffeur to drive faster immediately.

"No can do, miss Mason. There's a thing called speed limit –"

"You can shove your stupid speed limit up your ass if you don't take me back to the training centre right now!"

The chauffeur sighs and I can see him roll his eyes at me through the mirror. "Well, you're nothing if not direct. Right away, miss Mason. Anything else? Maybe a coffee for the way? A sedative?"

"Oh drop the attitude, will you?"

The driver is silent for the rest of the ride, except for his extremely polite goodbye when he drops me off at the training centre.

I run through the giant hall to get to the elevators – the monitor room is in the basement – but I bump into Snow's nephew. I don't have time for this.

"Johanna! What a pleasure running into you!"

I _really_ don't have time for this.

"Hey there," I say, already taking a few steps towards the elevator. Very subtle, Jo.

"How are you, love? Shouldn't you be in the monitor room?"

I motion towards the elevator. "I'm actually on my way."

He looks confused. "But, where did you come from?"

"I dropped off Dustin, at the arena," I reply, raising my voice a bit at the end.

"But isn't that the escort's job, or the stylist's?"

Oh shit. This could go wrong in so many ways. Why didn't I just stick to the plan and let Chadara take him.

"Yeah, I know, but Chadara was feeling a bit under the weather and well, I volunteered to take her place," I ramble. "I mean, if she's not feeling well she should rest a bit instead of taking a flight on a hovercraft. She's so fragile."

I try to give him my best puppy eyes and smile and apparently it's working, since he's almost tearing up. "Oh Johanna, I knew you were a softie at heart. You're just like me, tough exterior but when it comes down to it…"

Yeah right, just like him. But I just keep smiling, you never know he might throw in some extra cash. I have the feeling Dustin will be needing it, considering he's being a total idiot in the arena.

"Right, well, I really need to go now so if you'll excuse me," I say with my brightest smile and cheeriest voice.

"Oh yes, go ahead. Go District 7!"

Yes, go District 7.

"What the hell is he doing?" I fume when I enter the monitor room and see Darren looking intently at the screen focused on Dustin.

"I have no idea," he replies slowly.

"This is absurd! How does he expect us to help him if we don't even know what his next move is going to be! He's totally unpredictable! Decisions like this could kill him," I say furiously.

Darren suddenly looks up at me with a grin on his face. "You do realize you were just like him, right? Unpredictable?"

"That is not the point!" I almost yell. My unpredictability was a good kind of unpredictability. One that kept me alive.

"Jean's not doing great, by the way," Darren says, now looking at the other screen.

"What's happened?"

"She's hurt. The girl from District 1 got to her. She got out of the bloodbath though, but…"

I glance at the District 1 cubicle and see Cashmere grinning at me.

"Is she going to make it?" I ask Darren.

"No, not without sponsorships. And even if we do send her a medicine, I doubt she would –"

"Then we ignore it," I cut him off mid-sentence.

"What?"

I close my eyes for a brief moment. "There can only be one Victor, and we both know it's not going to be her. Ignore it, and keep the money for when Dustin needs it."

"She's only thirteen."

I look at Darren. Even years of mentoring cannot train you for the emotional breakdown you get every time you have to give up a tribute.

"When she dies, it's on me," I offer, a desperate attempt to take away his guilt. And honestly, it's really going to be on me. I made the call. My decision. My sacrifice.


	11. Chapter 11

Darren stays still for a couple of minutes before he gets up and leaves, making me the head mentor for the rest of the day. I see Finnick furrowing his brows in confusion at Darren's retreating figure but then focus back on his screens. I sigh and take a seat in front of mine, feeling the weight of my decision already on my shoulders.

There are three screens in every District cubicle. One follows the male tribute, another follows the female tribute and the third has all the files that contain sponsor money, the tributes' background information and a bunch of other stuff I'm not interested in.

The screen to my left shows Dustin wiping the sweat of his forehead as the sun is still very high. I glance at my watch only to see it's almost five in the evening. Something's definitely off with the weather in the arena.

Deciding Dustin won't do anything stupid, like for example die, for at least an hour considering there's no other tribute close enough for him to get into a fight with, I switch my attention to the screen in the middle. Jean's cheeks are flaming red and she's panting like she's just ran a marathon. Her left hand is pushing down her side where blood is painting her shirt dark red. I don't know how deep the wound is but I can tell that it's going to be a long couple of hours for her. Maybe I should see if there's nothing else I can do…

I open the sponsor file on the right screen and am pleasantly surprised to see I have managed to scrape together quite a bit of money. A lot of money actually. Enough to get Jean something…

"Hey Finnick," I whisper loud enough for him to hear but not loud enough for District 1 and 2 to hear.

"What?"

"Could you come over here for a sec?" I ask sweetly, trying not to sound suspicious. "I just can't find something on this screen and this is all new for me so…"

"Yeah sure," he replies while already getting up from his chair and making his way to my cubicle.

"I need your advice on something," I whisper softly as soon as I'm certain no one else can hear us. "Is there something I can buy to … help Jean get along a bit?"

He opens another file on the right screen, one about medications. "I don't know what exactly it is you need," he mumbles. "What kind of wound is it? What weapon was used?"

I shrug. "I don't know, Darren was here when it happened. I wasn't really paying attention to her…" I trail off a bit at the end, suddenly feeling a bit guilty.

"Well, this might help," he says, pointing to some kind of shot or ointment that absolutely doesn't ring any bells but sounds very pricy.

"No, that's not exactly what I need," I say, stretching the sentence a bit.

He reads a bit further down the list. "Well, something like this can definitely stop the bleeding but I don't know…"

"No, Finnick," I interrupt, "I need something to help her… die."

Finnick is silent for a moment, taking in what I've just said.

"I don't really think there's something like that on the market, at least not for us to buy," he eventually says.

"Oh come on, there has to be something?"

"Johanna," he says, "why would you need something like that? There are other options here."

"Oh yeah?" I ask, raising my eyebrows skeptically. "Well you obviously have more experience in this department but to me it looks like she's beyond hope."

"Is she? Or do you just want Dustin to survive?"

"Of course I want Dustin to survive! He's going to win these games, and I'd rather have him win them without having to kill his fellow District 7 tribute!"

The District 6 mentor gives us a weird glance when my voice gets a bit too loud.

Finnick sighs, looking at the screen in the middle. "She does look bad," he says.

I nod. I know what I just asked of him might have been a bit out of line but I don't want Jean to suffer, even though that's a key ingredient of the Games.

"So do you have any idea?" I try again.

Finnick shakes his head, biting his lower lip. "No. And even if there was something, they wouldn't let you do it."

"They?"

"The Capitolians. The gamemakers. President Snow. _Especially_ Snow. You'd be a dead woman, Johanna. Figuratively speaking of course."

"Then we don't say anything to anyone. Buy something on the black market," I suggest.

"Not a chance. They'll see you used sponsor money, and when Jean dies because of a sponsor gift, they'll know it was you. I'm sorry, it won't work."

Finnick seems genuinely sorry, because he understands. He's been in this position before. Maybe not actually in this position but at least he can empathize with me.

"I'm sorry," he says one last time before he heads back to his own cubicle.

I sigh a couple of times, still focused on Jean. The sponsor money file is useless right now. I can't do anything. I decided she should die, and I can't even give her the final blow. All I can do is wait.

Minutes pass and more mentors have noticed that Jean is dying since she's being shown on the big screen which means she's on everyone's television right now. I chew on the inside of my cheek when I think about how her family must be feeling.

An hour has passed and even Cashmere has decided it's time for me to do something. "I knew you were a machine, but this is monstrous," she says, a disgusted look on her face.

"Look who's talking," I tort back, trying to keep my careless _machine_ attitude.

She snorts. "Right, well I'm not the one letting my tribute die for no good reason."

"No, it's only your tribute who wounded her."

The sun in the arena is still as high as it was two hours ago.

I don't watch Jean on the big screen. It's too confronting. Instead I watch her on my own screen, swallowing hard every ten seconds. She's lying on the sand now, looking up at the sun. There's no shade. Sweat is dripping from her forehead onto the sand. Her breathing is ragged and irregular. What the hell have I done?

"Are you really just going to sit there?" Finnick's fellow mentor yells at me. I don't know her name, I don't even remember seeing her Games. "What is wrong with you?" she adds, shaking her head.

"Shut up."

It comes out as a whisper because I don't trust my voice right now. Jean's breath is making a shrieking sound that is penetrating my ears as Cashmere turns the volume up on the big screen.

And then it stops. No weird shrieking sounds anymore. Only the familiar boom that announces death.


	12. Chapter 12

After the canon has announced Jean's death to the other tributes in the arena, I want to get up and leave this whole thing behind. I'm not fit to be a mentor. Winning your own Games doesn't mean you can just pass on that talent or that luck to another.

As my middle screen goes black, I suddenly remember Dustin. I can't get up, I have to stay. There's not much I can do, not much any of these mentors here can do, but everyone stays nonetheless. So I read through all the names of the medicines and their specifications, hoping something will seem useful to remember. Every once in a while I shoot a glance at Dustin's screen, only to see he's still doing exactly the same as before: walking, panting, wiping sweat of his forehead…

Gloss' loud yawn suddenly makes me very aware of my own fatigue and as I look at the time, I gasp.

"Hey, Finnick, what's the time?"

I see him look down on his wrist and frown. "Uhm, I think my watch is broken."

"It's…" a female District 8 mentor starts, "it's just after midnight. This can't be right, can it?"

Everyone looks at their screens or their watches, all equally confused.

"How is this possible?" an irritated Cashmere shouts.

"The danger of the arena," I say in an almost whispery voice. "They're skipping the night."

"But why?" Finnick's fellow mentor asks.

"To mess with the tributes, mess with their sense of time," Finnick replies with a sigh.

"But they'll fall like flies in an arena like this," the District 10 mentor says.

I nod slightly, looking at the big screen. "I wonder what's going on in the Gamemakers' heads to design an arena like this…"

"I bet it's your fault," Cashmere suddenly says, her voice dripping with venom.

I raise my eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"It's your fault. Your tribute, he's nineteen. It's against the rules. Fucking District 7," she spits out. I don't know what suddenly happened to Cashmere but she's obviously planning on taking it all out on me.

"Well, they should've checked first. It's their stupid Games, they'd better make sure every tribute was 'legal'."

Cashmere walks over to me, a threatening look in her eyes. "Fix it," she says once she's toe to toe with me.

"Why don't you shove that attitude up your scrawny ass and fix it yourself."

"Hey!" Finnick interrupts, putting a hand on both my and Cashmere's shoulder. "We're all tired, let's just calm down and see what we can do."

Before I can even reply a peacekeeper enters the room and calls my name.

"Johanna Mason?"

"What?" I snap.

He doesn't even blink at my harsh tone. "The president summons you."

The peacekeeper makes his way back to the door but turns around when I tell him I can't leave. "Darren's not here, if I leave there will be no one to monitor Dustin."

"Darren is on his way. Now follow me."

I throw Finnick a questioning look but he just shrugs, indicating he doesn't know what this is about either.

I follow the peacekeeper through hallways, onto the elevator and eventually to my own floor.

"I thought you said the pres-" I start but am cut short by the sight of the man I hate more than anything.

"Hello, miss Mason."

I swallow thickly. "President Snow," I say, trying to keep my voice flat.

"Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the sofa. I realize the Capitol – and all of Panem – is his property but I don't really like being bossed around on my own floor.

"No thanks, I'd rather stand."

Snow gives me a cold look before he flashes his disgusting teeth. "Very well then. I think we need to have a little chat."

I cross my arms over my chest. "About what?"

"Your tribute…" Snow starts after he's sighed a couple of times and asked an Avox to bring him some wine.

I sigh too, much more heavily than he did. "Okay, fine, I know the arena was because of him. But none of us knew he was nineteen, I swear. But an arena like this is just not going to work. They'll die from the heat, exhaustion, dehydration, you name it. You won't get a spectacle, just a graveyard."

I swallow again, mentally slapping myself for jumping the gun and basically telling him his precious Games are going to be a total failure this year.

"Thank you for your delightful speech, miss Mason," Snow says, nipping from his glass of red wine. "But I'm not here to discuss mister Clann's age."

I let my arms drop in confusion. "You're not?"

Again that disgusting smile. "No, I'm not."

We stay silent for a while, uncomfortably silent, while he sips from his wine and keeps looking at me.

"Then why are you here?" I eventually ask.

"I am here to discuss your relationship with mister Clann."

I manage to keep my face expressionless but I feel like Snow just hit me in the stomach with a sledgehammer.

"My relationship?"

President Snow gets up from the couch, purposefully slowly.

"Miss Mason, I think it would be best if we both agreed to tell the truth. No lies, just the naked truth."

The word _naked_ coming from his mouth almost makes me gag.

I don't reply, partially because I don't know what to say and partially because I know that whatever I say could be extremely dangerous for Dustin, even more dangerous than it already is. How the hell did he know about us? I know we weren't exactly low profile but no one knew but Darren. He wouldn't –

"Miss Mason?"

I make a useless gesture with my hand. "Fine, the naked truth, whatever."

"Now, do you have a relationship with mister Clann?"

"Define relationship."

"Do you have an emotional relationship with him? Do you care about him? Are you two sexually involved."

_Sexually involved_, please someone make him shut up or I'm going to be sick.

"Yes," I say, knowing it's the only thing I can say.

"Good," Snow says, nodding. "My nephew Gaius has taken quite a liking to you."

I try not to look confused but he's either changing the topic completely or Gaius had something to do with Dustin.

"Many others as well," Snow continues, taking a sip from his wine again. "Perfectly understandable of course, you're the newest Victor and you're not hard on the eye, if you could just smile a bit more. But unfortunately for those others, Gaius has requested you for this year."

"This year?" I gasp. He's not implying that I'm to become his nephew's daily piece of ass, is he?

"Until you go back to District 7, that is."

Relief washes over me. "Oh, okay."

"He's paying a lot of money for you, so I expect you to be a good girl, and not tell anyone about your affairs with mister Clann. If word should get out, it'd put him in grave danger, don't you think?"

Snow's face is way too close to mine and the smell coming out of his mouth nearly makes me faint, but I stay put and stare straight ahead.

"Yes, president Snow."

"Good girl."


	13. Chapter 13

"What was that all about?" Finnick asks when I return to the monitor room.

"Nothing," I say, brushing him off.

"Well it must've been about something," he says, following me to the District 7 cubicle. "Come on, Johanna, you can tell me."

I turn around abruptly. "Finnick, please. Don't ask any questions."

He opens his mouth to object but then just nods. "Okay."

When I stand next to the District 7 screens, Darren looks up. "Everything okay?"

"No," I sigh, covering my eyes with my hand. "He knows."

Darren nods. "I figured as much. So, what is he going to do?"

"I'm not sure," I say. "He just said that no one ought to know about it. No one, especially not _Gaius_."

"Who the hell is Gaius?" Darren asks, smirking at the name.

"Snow's nephew. He's hired me for the rest of the Games."

Darren is quiet for a moment, obviously thinking. "You can use that to your advantage."

"Yeah, I know," I agree, "I'm just not sure how yet. How's he doing, by the way? Is he sleeping?" I nod towards the screen that shows Dustin lying on the sand, his eyes closed.

"He's exhausted, yes, but not sleeping. He was squinting at the sun a few minutes before you came in, I think he knows something's off. He also drew a line in the sand to see whether the sun's moving or not."

I look at Dustin's sleeping figure, and indeed he's drawn a line in the sand with some smaller lines crossing it. At the bottom of the line he has placed a stick in the sand, which casts a shadow on the big line. The shadow reaches the first horizontal line, so if the sun is going to move even a little bit, Dustin will see it. _Smart_, I note.

"Well, they have to make it night sooner or later. How else will the tributes know when to sleep. Plus, they'll be looking over their shoulder all the time, expecting others to attack them."

As I take a seat next to Darren, something else suddenly pops into my head. "The Fallen," I exclaim.

"What about them?"

"Have they shown them yet?"

Darren has a puzzled look on his face. "Wh-"

"If night won't fall, the tributes will never know how many have died already. They won't know a thing! This is not a regular arena with some mutts, this is an arena that messes with your head. Almost no water, the sun constantly glaring down on you, no shadow, no night, no sense of time, no idea who else is left. I can't-"

The day has finally taken its toll on me, and my meeting with President Snow earlier hasn't done any good to my nerves and finally pushed me over the edge. I feel tears sting in the corners of my eye but I purse my lips together in anger. "This has got to stop. They have never left tributes in the dark like this."

"Where are you going?" Darren yells after me when I've turned around and am walking towards the door. "Johanna!"

I slam the door shut, ignoring Darren's shouted questions. This is obviously my mess, and I'm going to clean it up.

I walk towards the elevators and slam the button several times while I'm waiting impatiently. Chadara should still be awake right now, and she's always the first one to know when I have another 'date' so I need to speak to her as soon as possible.

"Johanna? What are you doing here?"

I turn around at the sound of a voice behind me. "Gaius!"

He smiles, his face just as surprised as mine probably is. It's like the man is everywhere, every time. This is what, the fourth time I've ran into him today?

"What are you doing here?" he repeats.

Well, I guess I'll have to put my plan into motion a bit sooner than I thought. "I, eh - The mentors are all still in the monitor room. The Games are taking up a lot of our time," I say, pointing to the closed door.

"Poor thing!" Gaius exclaims, his facial expression completely exaggerated. "You should get to relax every now and then, you know."

"I know," I say dramatically. "If only I knew how to relax. But if I go to the District 7 floor, all I do is stress about the Games and my tribute."

I squeeze my eyes in a desperate attempt to fake some tears, but Gaius has already taken the bait.

"Well, let me help you! Why don't you come over to my place right now, I don't think we'll find a restaurant that is still open at this hour and you look like you could use some comfort food."

I throw him a grateful smile. "You're too kind, Gaius."

Well, at least there was an upside to Snow's visit: I know his nephew's name now. If I didn't, I doubt this plan would work.

I follow Gaius out to his car which takes us to a fancy looking building on the Capitol's largest boulevard. When the driver opens my door, I can't help but look up in awe.

"Let's go," Gaius says, taking my arm and leading me into the building.

His apartment is on the top floor, looking out over the city. Standing on the balcony, I can see the training centre, and as I watch the lights on behind every window I can't help but think about my fellow mentors who will probably stay up all night to watch their tributes.

"Here you go," Gaius says, handing me a glass of champagne. "I know it's already late and you're tired but we can't say no to all life's little pleasures, can we?" He winks.

Even though I've had to say no to all these _little pleasures_ my whole life up until last year and I smile like Cashmere would've done. "I suppose not."

"You look very stressed," Gaius observes, sipping from his champagne and eyeing me at the same time.

_Game time_. "Well, of course I'm stressed. I'm surprised you're not even a little bit nervous or frustrated yourself."

Gaius looks confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well," I start, putting a sad look on my face, "you have invested a lot of money in District 7, in Dustin. I'm sure you want to see him win?"

"Of course I want to see him win! Don't tell my uncle, the President, but I've placed a few extra bets on mister Clann, you know, illegal bets."

Hmm, illegal bets. This is going better than I expected.

"Well as you've probably seen, the arena isn't exactly a normal one. In my opinion, a Victor's opinion," I add, "more tributes will get killed by the arena than by other tributes. There won't be much of a fight."

"As long as mister Clann is the Victor, I don't care what the arena does," Gaius says with a smile.

I let out a theatrical sigh. "I know. But I don't think Dustin will survive an arena like this."

"What do you mean?" Gaius suddenly snaps. "I paid a lot of money, miss Mason!"

"I know! But you know as much as I do that Dustin is a killer. He'll have to fight and kill to win these Games."

Actually, Dustin is a pretty good survivor too, considering his history, but I need to convince Gaius that he isn't.

"Hmm, you might be right," he says, staring over the city deep in thought. "Maybe I could pitch a few ideas to the Gamemakers. I am the President's nephew after all…"

"Of course, with influence like yours you could probably even change the whole arena," I say, smiling seductively. "But I doubt they would ever think of going back to the regular day-and-night schedule."

Gaius squints his eyes at me for a long time, so long I start to wonder if he's on to me or not. Maybe I should've been more subtle, or maybe I should've waited a few more days. This is only the first day, or night, of the Games, but everyone's already stressed out. I can't risk this going on for a week.

And then Gaius speaks up. "I'll see what I can do."


End file.
